


Harlot

by kerfuffling



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: blindfold_spn, Dubious Consent, M/M, Soulless Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-08 01:18:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kerfuffling/pseuds/kerfuffling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt: Soulless Sam is sick of Dean being devoted to Lisa. He wants Dean all to himself, like they used to be. When Dean won't give in, Sam starts bringing hookers back to the motel room and showing Dean what he's missing out on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Harlot

“I said no, goddammit,” Dean snarls, pushing Sam back from him, his lips tingling from the brutal kiss that Sam had just forced on him.

Sam’s face contorts into a furious scowl, and he advances on Dean again, causing Dean to back up until he runs into the edge of the bed, almost falling over onto it. “Why not, Dean?” Sam challenges. “I mean, you used to like it. You used to beg for my cock in your ass like a good little whore.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Dean says warningly, bringing a hand up to keep Sam from pushing him onto the bed into an even more vulnerable position. “You are not the fucking Sam I used to know.”

“Oh, fuck you, yes I am,” Sam returns, taking another step forward so that he’s completely in Dean’s space. “I remember everything about before, and I still know how to make you moan.” To prove his point, he bends down and nuzzles at Dean’s neck before biting sharply, causing goosebumps to raise on Dean’s arms from the feel of Sam’s mouth on his skin.

Dean brings his hand up, upending Sam onto the floor with a sharp right hook. Sam looks up, still angry as shit, and scoffs, his lips curling back into an ugly expression.

“So, what, Lisa make you all monogamous now? Can’t bend over for me like you used to?”

“I’m warning you, Sam,” Dean snaps, towering over Sam threateningly. “Leave me the fuck alone. I’m not doing anything you want me to.”

“You will,” Sam promises, rubbing absently on the red mark on his chin that was left by Dean’s fist. 

Dean leaves before he can give into the urge to beat his soul-less brother unconscious. 

**

Dean stays at the bar, downing whiskey until his head is fuzzy and the floor is unstable under his feet, waiting until he thinks it might be safe to go back to the motel room. Sam usually leaves to do shit at night, and by midnight, Dean is driving carefully, parking in front of their room.

As predicted, the room is empty, and there’s no indication of where Sam’s gone. If it had been old Sam, Dean might’ve freaked out, but this new version of his brother is too much to handle, and Dean can’t muster up the energy to care through his alcohol-muddled haze. He sacks out on his bed, just barely having the forethought to kick off his shoes before he hugs his pillow, hand curling around the knife hidden under it, and falls asleep.

When Dean wakes up again, he’s still a little drunk and a lot confused at first. The bedside lamp is on, casting a light glow through the room, and as his eyes adjust, Dean realizes that it’s still night. He’s about to bitch at someone, especially if it’s his brother come home from wherever the fuck he went, when he hears a low moan.

Dean resists the urge to groan into his pillow. Trust fucking Sam to watch porn while he’s asleep, the persistent bastard. Dean rolls over to tell him to turn it the fuck off already, and he nearly falls out of the bed.

It wasn’t porn he heard--well, it was, but not the pre-filmed television kind. There’s this woman--this skinny, stacked woman, naked on Sam’s bed. Her back is arched obscenely, and she’s palming her tits as she moans, making little encouraging noises in the back of her throat. And--oh Jesus, holy mother of hell, she is sitting on Sam’s face, and now that Dean’s aware enough to know what’s going on, he can hear the wet sound of Sam’s tongue lapping at her cunt.

“C’mon, baby,” she groans huskily, pinching one of her nipples as she bucks down onto Sam’s mouth. “Just like that.”

Dean can’t look away, can’t stop watching her gorgeous breasts bounce up and down. He presses the heel of his hand to his growing erection, his breath coming harshly, and the woman’s moans grow louder and more incoherent. She’s moved her hands from her tits and is grabbing at Sam’s head, her toes curling into the sheets. Dean can tell just when she comes because her body goes tight, curling into a backwards C. 

“Fuck yes,” she says when she comes down, shifting a little so she’s off of Sam’s mouth and instead kneeling so she’s practically sitting on his chest. Dean catches a glimpse of Sam’s face, slick with her orgasm, and then Sam moves, quicker than lightning, and flips her over. He bends her over and maneuvers her knees to her chest, barely pausing before he’s pushing into her.

He doesn’t give her time to adjust, just takes up a punishing rhythm, fucking in and out. The sound of their bodies slapping against one another fill the room, dirty, filthy sex noises, and Dean has begun to rub his cock through his boxers, never taking his eyes from where his brother is ramming this chick through the bed.

Sam’s silent, but the girl is making these high-pitched _oh oh oh_ noises, scratching her fingernails down Sam’s back. All of a sudden, Sam speeds up and simultaneously looks over at Dean, his lips quirked in a cruel smirk. Abandoning all pretense, Dean slips a hand inside of his underwear, pulling at his cock with the same speed his brother is thrusting, fucking his hand until the precome is squelching underneath his fingertips, easing the way.

Sam’s still looking at him when he comes, his mouth slackening in a pleasure-fogged shape that Dean used to know. Dean follows him over seconds later, spurting into his boxers, and the girl’s still moaning.

Dean’s still awake when Sam pays her and she tells him to call her anytime.

**

It becomes kind of a routine, and Dean can’t decide if it’s uncomfortable or awesome, because every night, he gets a free show, gets to watch his brother plow some nameless hooker. He always feels guilty afterwards, thinks of Lisa, and Ben, but he can never pull himself to talk to Sam about it, or not look when it’s going on.

And Sam seems determined to drive Dean crazy. He always finds the most gorgeous hookers, tall and olive-skinned, enthusiastic, young. No matter what, he always does something new, too, until Dean thinks about what he’s in for as he waits to fall asleep.

Monday was the blonde who rode Sam until he made her come three times, never stopping her litany of, “So fucking hot, oh my god, make me come, fill me up.” She let Sam suck on her nipples until they were bruised and bit at his chest until she returned the favor. Every time she was close, she’d let her hand slip down, fingers rubbing furiously against her clit, and Sam would let her because he was staring at Dean the entire time.

Tuesday was this Italian chick, small-breasted but with the longest, thickest curling dark hair. She deep-throated like the professional she was, using one of her free hands to fondle Sam’s balls, as her other hand worked at her cunt. She let Sam come on her face and moaned the whole way through.

Wednesday was this exotic, dark-skinned prostitute, who Sam barely undressed before he went to work on her. Her breasts had been pushed free from the cups of her lacy bra, and Sam had flipped her short skirt over her ass and pushed her panties inside. He fingered her asshole, got it nice and ready, and then pushed in until he was balls-deep. He fucked her until her knees collapsed from underneath her, and then pulled out and came across the small of her back.

On Thursday, he managed to get two girls, young and blue-eyed and perfectly slutty. He reamed one of them from behind as she went down on her friend, palming her tits as he did so.

By Friday, Dean felt like he was going to explode. He needed to put a stop to this now, goddammit, before he did something he didn’t want to do, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. No matter how shitty he felt afterwards, the rush of watching his brother fuck nameless hooker after nameless hooker was something that he couldn’t give up, not for fucking anything, not even for the look of betrayal that would inevitably adorn Lisa’s face.

Sam stumbles in at half-past two with this red-headed whore who is wearing a scrap of clothing that barely counted as a dress, the cups of her bra peeking above the fabric. Sam wastes no time undressing her, and she looks like a fucking Barbie doll, no waist and huge tits. Sam lays down on the bed and fixes her with a piercing stare. 

“Eat me out,” he commands, rolling over onto his stomach, and she doesn’t even hesitate, getting into position and putting her hands on his ass, spreading him. Without warning or preamble, she starts, plunging her little tongue into Sam’s asshole, works at it until it’s sopping. She goes forever, until her jaw must be hurting like a motherfucker, until Sam tells her to stop, an undeterminable amount of time later. Dean is so close to humping the fucking bed from watching them, but Sam sits up and fixes him with a look.

“Don’t you dare,” he warns, and the girl looks a little nonplussed, a little surprised that they’re acknowledging Dean now. Dean can’t disobey--he just fucking can’t, no matter how hard he wants to come, and then Sam’s fingering at her cunt, using his thumb to rub against her clit until she comes with a squeak. 

His cock is still hard, still curving upwards against his stomach, sticky with precome, but he pays the girl. 

“Leave,” he tells her, and she goes, disgruntled but ultimately happy at her easy cash. Sam advances on Dean, and Dean can’t move, can’t do anything but watch. Sam pulls the covers away from Dean, and he still isn’t moving, isn’t trying to get away, even though he fucking should if he had any fucking sense left.

“So fucking ready for me, Dean,” Sam breathes, and he hooks his fingers in Dean’s boxers and pulls at them.

“No,” Dean gasps, but he shifts his hips up so Sam can get them off and fling them somewhere towards the bathroom.

“Don’t lie,” Sam says, incredibly softly. “You know you want it.” His finger is circling Dean’s hole, catching against the rim, and Dean’s whole body is tight with the anticipation of penetration.

“Don’t,” Dean says but then moans as Sam’s finger presses into him, dry, and it feels just as good as Dean remembers. He’s canting his hips down, fucking himself onto Sam’s finger before he realizes it, and when he tries to stop, Sam just removes his finger and presses it into Dean’s mouth.

“That’s it,” he says encouragingly as Dean sucks on his finger, slicking it with his saliva. He presses a second finger into Dean’s mouth, and then a third, and Dean tongues it even though he doesn’t want to, even though he shouldn’t, because they taste so good, taste like Sam.

Sam uses his spit-slicked fingers to prep Dean, and it’s not enough, won’t ever be enough, but he pushes his cock inside anyway. The cling and the pain make Dean want to beg, but he’s not sure what for.

“Please,” he moans, thrashing his head from one side of the pillow to the other. “Stop. Please.”

“You don’t mean it,” Sam pants as he pistons in and out. “Look how fucking hard you are, Dean. Jesus.”

And it’s true, it’s so true, because Dean’s cock is hard and aching to be touched. He can feel Sam’s cock moving inside of him, against him, pushing in deep before pulling out, and he can hear the noises coming from his mouth.

“Come,” Sam says. “Fucking come. Just from me fucking you. Prove to me that you want it.”

And God help him, Dean does, shooting up across his belly, a scream wrenched from his throat. His orgasm crests forever, almost painful in its intensity, and his legs are cramping from how hard he’s curling his toes. Vaguely, he feels Sam’s own orgasm slicking inside of him, and it seeps out of him when Sam withdraws.

“See?” Sam says breathlessly. “You’re fucking mine, Dean. Don’t you ever fucking forget it.” He rolls off and goes into the bathroom, starting up the shower. Dean lies there for a long time, his limbs orgasm-heavy, staring at the ceiling.

He feels hollow and absently wonders if this is how Sam feels all of the time.

End!


End file.
